


The Leopard and the Viper

by jesatria



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairing, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-15
Updated: 2010-12-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesatria/pseuds/jesatria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kushiel's Legacy/Asoiaf crossover. Oberyn & Barquiel meet & have a bit of fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Leopard and the Viper

          “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were a Targaryen,” said Oberyn, still not entirely sure what to make of the mysterious stranger who sat beside him at the Water Gardens. He was tall, indeed slightly taller than Oberyn, slender, and very pale. The only people that pale in Dorne were the Daynes. His short hair was white-blond, and his eyes, currently surveying the pools and blood orange trees, were unmistakably violet. But the stranger had already introduced himself, and he was neither Targaryen nor Dayne.

          “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Barquiel retorted. He couldn’t say why this stranger thought he was a “Targaryen,” whatever that was, but he had to admit this was quite an interesting place. And his companion- Prince Oberyn, he’d introduced himself as- was the most interesting part. At first Barquiel thought he was an Akkadian, but his skin was a shade lighter than the average Akkadian’s. His thick black hair was shoulder-length, and came to a widow’s peak above his dark eyes. He was rather attractive, really.

          “Oh, no one, just the ruling dynasty of Westeros for three hundred years. The blood of Old Valyria, the blood of the dragon. Almost all of them are dead.” As soon as he finished speaking, Oberyn found himself staring at Barquiel again. He was extremely handsome, perhaps the most handsome man Oberyn had ever seen. He’d always liked blonds.

          Barquiel noticed his staring, and his mouth curled into a grin. Perhaps he could enjoy himself while visiting this country. Oberyn was very attractive indeed… he’d always had a liking for the exotic.

          “I take it you are not from around here? There are no Dornishmen who look like you,” Oberyn was saying. “Where do you come from?”

          “I come from the land of Terre d’Ange, the province of Namarre, if you want to be exact.” Barquiel paused for a moment, observing the blood orange trees and pools. The sun had gone down, and the stars were mirrored in the empty pools. He was reminded of Khebbel-im-Akkad, where he’d first tasted blood oranges. Indeed, the climate here appeared to be very similar. He wished he was wearing Akkadian robes in this heat. “What is the name of this land? It reminds me of another I visited recently.”

          “Dorne,” Oberyn replied. “Southernmost of the seven kingdoms of Westeros, ruled over by my brother, Prince Doran Nymeros Martell.”

          “Didn’t you mention earlier that there was a family who ruled all of Westeros?” Barquiel asked.

          Oberyn’s expression immediately darkened. The last thing he needed when seducing a handsome man was to be reminded of what had befallen his sister. “The Targaryens ruled Westeros until about fifteen years ago, when their throne was usurped and nearly all of them were killed.” He looked out at the pools. “My sister was married to a Targaryen prince. When the usurper took the capital, she was raped and brutally murdered, along with her children.” Venom and rage dripped from Oberyn’s voice, and Barquiel was momentarily taken aback by the sudden change. He understood how Oberyn felt, although he supposed he was lucky in comparison. If Dominic Stregazza had raped Isabel, he would’ve killed the bastard himself. Slowly.

          “I’m sorry,” he said, in a voice drastically different from the one he’d spoken in thus far. “I had a sister once. She was married to a prince, too, and she was poisoned by other members of the royal family who set their eyes on the throne. Trust me, I understand. I understand completely.”

          Oberyn looked at Barquiel as if he’d never seen anyone quite like him before. “I’m sorry about your sister. Did she have any children?”

          Barquiel gave a very slight smile. “Yes, she did. My niece Ysandre is the queen of Terre d’Ange.”

          “You’re very fortunate. Elia’s children, my niece and nephew, were just babes, but the monsters slaughtered them anyway.”

          His words reminded Barquiel of how close Ysandre’d come to meeting that same fate, on numerous occasions. “I’m very sorry about what befell your niece and nephew.”

          “Thank you,” said Oberyn quietly. He fixed his eyes on the blood orange trees, as if it would give him the strength to continue talking about Elia. “It wouldn’t have happened if her damned idiot husband Rhaegar hadn’t abandoned her for that Stark girl,” Oberyn hissed.

          “How did he abandon her?”

          Oberyn’s hands curled into fists. The very thought of Rhaegar Targaryen still made him furious, all these years later. “He left her at the mercy of his insane father the king and ran off with most of the Kingsguard to fuck the Stark girl. And even before he abandoned Elia, he publicly humiliated her by naming Lyanna Stark Queen of Love and Beauty over her.”

          “Why exactly was this such a problem?” He was not well-aquainted with this land, to be sure, but it seemed to Barquiel that it was somewhat like Terre d’Ange. He hadn’t missed Oberyn openly admiring his beauty and caught the spark of desire in the other man’s dark eyes.

          “Because Lyanna Stark’s promised husband declared war on the Targaryens as a result of it.” Oberyn’s voice was bitter. “Robert Baratheon,” he spat out the name as if it tasted foul, “condoned Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon’s murders and climbed onto his throne over their corpses.”

          “Ah, that would explain it. Do you know the names of those who killed your sister?”

          “Yes, I do,” Oberyn smiled, “and I will have vengeance. What about you, do you know who killed your sister?”

          Barquiel smiled wickedly, fondly remembering the moment he received word that Dominic Stregazza was dead. “Oh, I knew. It took me twelve years to learn who it was, but I did. I had him ambushed and shot by my men. My only regret is being unable to watch him die personally.”

          A wistful expression came over Oberyn’s face as he imagined thrusting his poisoned spear into Tywin Lannister’s guts. “Would you care for a blood orange?” he asked abruptly.

          “Certainly.”

          Oberyn picked a pair of blood oranges and handed one to Barquiel. He accepted the fruit and began peeling it. “We do not have blood oranges in Terre d’Ange. I first tasted one during my time as ambassador to Khebbel-im-Akkad, a country with a climate very similar to this one.”

          “I’ve traveled extensively myself,” said Oberyn, “but never in any sort of diplomatic capacity. I’m better at starting wars than averting them.”

          Barquiel laughed at that. “Well then, what sort of things did you do on your travels?”

          “I studied many things in the Free Cities, and then fought as a sellsword over there for a time. It was quite a bit of fun, but after a while I began to long for Dorne. And then, after my sister was murdered and the Usurper took the throne, I had little desire to leave Dorne,” Oberyn explained. He put a piece of blood orange into his mouth, and licked the sticky juice from his fingers slowly.

          Barquiel found himself well-distracted from Oberyn’s words by the sight of the prince licking orange juice from his fingers. Perhaps that tongue was skilled at licking other things as well.

          His distraction did not escape Oberyn’s notice. The Dornishman grinned; that was just what he intended. “So Barquiel, I take it you enjoy bedding men as well as women?”

          Barquiel’s violet eyes met Oberyn’s black ones. “Of course. I am D’Angeline and a scion of Naamah, after all.”

          “Who is Naamah?”

          “The D’Angeline goddess of love. All whores serve Naamah and to enter her Service is sacred, for when she came to earth she lay with numerous people wherever she went. Making love is a way of worshipping her.”

          Oberyn was reminded of Isha, the Lysene love goddess he and Ellaria worshipped. “Now that is a goddess I could thoroughly enjoy worshipping. Terre d’Ange sounds like a place I’d like to visit.” He looked closely at Barquiel. “So you’re descended from a love goddess?”

          “Yes, I am.”

          Oberyn smiled, licking his lips slightly. “That will be something new. I’ve never bedded a scion of a love goddess before. It’s most unfortunate that Ellaria’s in Sunspear right now. She’ll be very disappointed to miss out.”

          “Ellaria?”

          “My paramour.”

          “Ah, I see,” replied Barquiel. “I daresay my wife, Apolline, will feel the same way.”

          Oberyn chuckled. “Now I _must_ visit you in Terre d’Ange.” He finished the last piece of his orange and smiled. “Shall we proceed to my bedchamber?”

          He led Barquiel down the pillared halls and through several archways until they arrived at his bedchamber, an airy room facing the sea.

          “Well, Prince Oberyn, you wanted to bed a scion of a love goddess. You will not be disappointed. I’ve not had a lover leave my bed disappointed yet.” Barquiel paused for a moment, and grinned wickedly. “So tell me, have you ever been tied?”

 

**

 

          When Oberyn awoke the next morning, his wrists were slightly red. Strewn about the floor with their clothes were four of Oberyn’s own silk sashes. He smiled as he recalled the events of the night before.

          Barquiel had tied him to the bedposts with the sashes, knotting them around his wrists and ankles. Oberyn could see the other man’s face as he tied him, how his beautiful eyes lit up with lust. It was quite a pleasing sight.

          Oberyn had had his wrists tied before- he and Ellaria were experimenting- but not like this.

          Once he was fully secured to the bed, and indeed he was secured- he could not wriggle out of a single binding- Barquiel moved on top of him. The D’Angeline proceeded to pleasure him exquisitely, licking, kissing and biting. He seemed to know exactly where Oberyn wanted it most. When he took Oberyn into his mouth, bringing him to the brink of ecstasy before denying him a climax, Oberyn could hardly contain himself. He could not think of the last time he bedded such a skilled man.

          “Oh no, I can’t let you have your release just yet,” Barquiel laughed as he resumed his exquisite torment.

          _I’ve not had a lover leave my bed disappointed yet,_ indeed.

          Barquiel began to stir beside him. The previous night had been quite fun, and had left him spent and satisfied. His Kusheline blood had been itching for release. Oberyn was good. He was very, very good, perhaps the most skilled man he’d ever bedded. He’d lay down on the bed and Oberyn gave him a massage worthy of the finest adept of Balm House before pleasuring him thoroughly and performing the _languisement_ to perfection. Oberyn looked so lovely tied too, face up and face down, and moaned so nicely as he thrust into him.

          Yes, he liked Dorne.

          Oberyn noticed he was awake. “Good morning, Barquiel. I trust you slept well?”

          “Oh, I did. Your company was most enjoyable.”

          “I could say the same of you.”

          Barquiel sat up and stretched. “I suppose we ought to get out of bed. Perhaps there will be blood oranges to break our fast?”

          Oberyn smiled. “If you want them.”

          The two men dressed and walked out to the terrace to break their fast. The children were already playing in the pools.

          “Are all of these children members of House Martell?” asked Barquiel.

          “Some of them are children of other Dornish nobles and some are commoners. We let our children play here too, but none of them are here right now.”

          “Do you have children of your own?”

          “Yes. Eight daughters.” Barquiel raised his eyebrows at that; people never had so many children in Terre d’Ange. “The four younger ones are Ellaria’s, but the older ones all have different mothers. They’re in Sunspear right now. What about you?”

          “I have one daughter, but my niece Ysandre might as well be a second daughter.”

          Oberyn smiled as he thought of Arianne, who could very well be a ninth Sand Snake. “My own niece is much the same. Arianne is the same age as my daughter Tyene, so they’ve always been close.”

          “It seems that your entire family is close,” observed Barquiel. “That’s a nice thing to see.”

          “Yes, it is.”

          Barquiel looked out at the children. “I suppose I should be getting back to Ysandre. She hasn’t been on the throne long, and already she’s dealt with treason and foreign invasions. But the most dangerous traitor escaped justice and has yet to be found.” He sighed. “Believe me, I would like to stay longer.”

          “And I’d be quite happy to have you. I meant what I said before- I want to come visit you in Terre d’Ange. Perhaps I’ll bring Ellaria too. That ‘Night Court’ you mentioned last night sounds most intriguing,” said Oberyn.

          “I’ll await your arrival. But before I go, I was wondering if I might borrow that book I saw on your beside table. You said it was an erotic text, yes?”

          “It is, and you’re welcome to have it,” Oberyn replied.

          Barquiel smiled. “I shall add it to our collection. Apolline will be very excited.” He stood and gave Oberyn a deep bow. “Until we meet again, Prince Oberyn.”

          Oberyn rose and returned the bow. “In Terre d’Ange, my friend.”

 

 **Notes**

Title- We all know who the viper is, but Barquiel is the leopard because he's described as leopard-like several times in the series.

Apolline- The name I gave Barquiel's wife in my headcanon, since we never learn her name in canon.

Isha- Lysene love goddess who Oberyn & Ellaria worship. This is another bit of my headcanon.


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